


A Note or Two

by verfound



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Desperada, Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Luka is a Blueberry, Lukanette, Mari Needs to Apologize, Musical Bonding, hints of adrienette, therapy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-11-02 00:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20565077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verfound/pseuds/verfound
Summary: Marinette knew she had been awful to Luka before and during the incident with Desperada, and even though Luka’s been chill about it she still feels horrible.  He may have a way she can make it up to him, though.  If she really thinks she needs to.





	A Note or Two

**Author's Note:**

> Desperada. So since my schedule for the rest of the month is going to be CRAP (my free time’s gonna get gobbled up by a unit project for this class – someone please convince me doing a Phoebe Buffet-style song about food allergens is NOT a good idea (“Yes, food is nutritious and good and delicious, but sometimes it can kill you – especially if you eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich!”)), this might be the only offering I’ll have for Lukanette Month. It’s not even really following a theme, though maybe I guess it could kinda be Day 7/Second Chance? It’s more just Desperada therapy after a comment Mari made. It wouldn’t let me be ‘til I wrote it down.

The sun was setting over the city of Paris. Marinette sat off to the side of the Liberty’s deck with her sketchbook, nervously bouncing her leg against where it rested on her other knee. Luka was still by their makeshift stage, plucking at his guitar, and it was easy enough to excuse her nervous energy as keeping time with the beat – though if she was matching him or he had once again tuned into the staccato of her heart she wasn’t sure. Most of the others had left a while ago. Adrien and Kagami were the first to go, especially after Kagami’s mother had called, livid over the phone call she’d received from D’Argencourt. Ivan, Mylène, and Alix left not long after that, and when Alya had stood to make her own way home Marinette had waved her on. She hadn’t been ready to go yet. Penny and Vivica had retired to the tour bus with Fang, but Jagged had disappeared somewhere to talk with _Nanarchy_. Rose and Juleka had retired to Juleka’s room, leaving Marinette alone with Luka.

…it was what she had wanted, back when she’d told Alya to head off without her. The chance to speak with Luka alone. The chance to apologize for how unbelievably _stupid_ she had been all day. So why was it, now that she had that chance, she was frozen in fear?

“You sound like this again,” Luka said, suddenly much closer than across the deck. She jumped as he sat on the ledge beside her, fingers strumming jerkily along the strings. The song was sad and fluttering, regret mixed with a dash of self-loathing. She frowned as she watched him play, a lump forming in her throat. He wasn’t wrong, but somehow he even managed to make the chaos of her heart sound beautiful. Luka nudged her side, and she tensed as she realized how close he was. “I can’t even blame Adrien for it this time, can I? I don’t want to call you a…though.”

Her lips quirked in a self-deprecating smile as he played the carnival tune again before sliding back into the song he usually played for her.

“But I still prefer when you sound like this,” he continued. Tears pricked her eyes as she looked down, no longer able to face him. This had been a horrible idea. She desperately owed him an apology, but how could she when he was being so sweet? So…_him?_

“You shouldn’t prefer when I sound like anything,” she said quietly, but Luka was well versed in mumbles and had caught every word. He frowned as he watched her. His fingers stilled in alarm when he saw the first tears slide down her cheeks. He put his guitar down and placed a finger under her chin, tilting her face up to look at him. He brushed the tears away with his thumb, and she closed her eyes in shame at his horrified expression.

“Hey, now, come on,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. Marinette, please stop. Please don’t cry because of me.”

“S-sorry,” she gasped, but she couldn’t stop the guilty tears from falling. The next thing she knew he had gathered her up in his arms, a hand running soothingly along her back. “Oh man, I’m s-so sorry, Luka!”

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” he said. He continued to rub her back, shushing her. “Just get it out. It’s all ok.”

“I-it’s not, though!” she cried. She hated how whiny her voice sounded, like a screeching wheel. “I’m such a mess, and you’re so sweet, and I don’t deserve you being nice to me! Not after how I treated you today!”

He froze around her, and she groaned as she pressed her face against his chest, her hands fisting in his shirt. She needed to pull away. None of this was fair to him. She wasn’t fair to him. She was finding her strength the more she spoke, though, and now that she’d started she couldn’t stop.

“I get so _stupid_ around Adrien, and today started so nice, and then _he_ showed up, and I was such a jerk to you! And then Jagged asked if I knew a guitarist, and I know he’s your idol, but I suggest _Adrien? _Adrien, who I knew could play piano but I’ve never even seen touch a guitar? And I made you give him your guitar! What kind of creep does that? Why don’t you hate me? You need to hate me!” she gasped, thumping her fist weakly against his chest. Luka’s arm tightened around her back, his other coming to hold her fist as it thumped him again.

“Marinette,” he said softly, but she shook her head.

“Hate me,” she whispered. “Please, just hate me as much as I hate myself right now.”

“Mari,” he said, and she sucked in a breath at the nickname. Had he ever called her that before? She peeked up at him, but he didn’t look angry. Baffled, maybe. Concerned. Definitely a little heartbroken. He squeezed her hand and gave her a smile. “Mari, didn’t I tell you? You’re the song that’s been stuck in my head since the moment we met. I could never hate you.”

“You should,” she hiccoughed. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead, and she stilled at the touch. “Luka, I was so awful to you today.”

“You love Adrien,” he said, and somehow hearing him say it hurt worst of all. It didn’t matter if it was still true – if she still thought it was true – or that everyone knew it. There was a tiny, mean part of her that didn’t want _Luka_ to know it. That wanted to spare him that hurt. “I know. You’d do anything to make him happy.”

“But you’re my friend, and I care about you, too,” she said miserably. “I should do anything to make you happy, too.”

He remained silent as she burrowed back against him, his thumb rubbing against her skin where he held her hand absently. He hummed as he leaned his cheek against her hair, and when her tears had finally subsided and she was breathing normally again, he said, “…ok.”

“What?” she asked. She glanced up at him to find he was smiling at her.

“You’re sorry about today, which…yeah, I guess you should be,” he said with a shrug. “I’m not mad, though. I get why you did what you did. Yes, it stung, but I’m not mad.”

“You –” she started, but he shook his head to cut her off.

“Should be, I know you think that, but I’m not,” he said with a shrug. “Still. You want to make it up to me? You want to make me happy?”

She nodded mutely against his chest, and he gave her a final squeeze before releasing her. She watched as he stood and moved away, rummaging through some of the cases around the stage. A moment later, he emerged with a victorious whoop and tossed something at her. She squawked and flailed as she tried to catch it, and she looked down, stunned, to find a silver flute in her hands. She looked up at him in confusion, then jumped again when she realized he had come back over to her. He was sitting on the deck by her feet, cross-legged and grinning up at her as he rested his elbows on his knees, chin in his hands.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” he said smugly. He nodded towards the flute. “And here I thought you were just an insanely talented designer. You told Jagged you could play a couple notes on the flute, right? So play. I want to hear.”

“I…but…I…” she stammered, looking from the flute to his eager face and back. Her hands tightened on the metal. “I really can’t, though. It was just a few music lessons when I was little. I don’t remember any of it, honest.”

“You’d be surprised how quick it comes back,” he said softly. When she looked back at him, he was still smiling at her like…she gulped at the look on his face and how it made her heart flutter. “Please, Mari? I’d love to hear you play.”

“Luka…” she sighed, rubbing the metal uncertainly.

“It would make me happy,” he encouraged gently, and she snorted as she shook her head.

“It really won’t,” she said. “It’ll sound like a bus full of dying cats, and you’ll question what you ever saw in me.”

“Then that’ll work to your benefit, too,” he said with a wink, and she snorted as a laugh burbled out of her. She rubbed at her eyes, clearing the last of her tears.

“How do you do that? How do you always make me feel so much better?” she asked. He didn’t answer, just kept on smiling and continued to wait. She sighed and raised the flute slightly, biting her lower lip. She glanced up at him. “You really want me to do this, don’t you?”

He nodded, still giving her that encouraging smile. His eyes practically danced, twinkling eagerly in the dying light. She sighed and raised the flute to her lips, giving him one last warning look.

“Just…don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said, and his lips twitched with a smirk. She placed her lips beside the embouchure, took a deep breath, and blew.

The first few notes were shaky. Her breath barely carried along the barrel, and the notes were stuttering and halted. She peeked open an eye to find Luka was still watching her, a brilliant smile on his face. He nodded encouragingly, and she screwed her eyes shut again and continued to play. And…he was right. She breathed, and moved her lips and tongue and teeth, her fingers slid along the keys, and suddenly it was all coming back to her. The notes evened out, and though the song was still simplistic it was fuller. More confident. Her fingers, still so nimble from years of embroidery, danced instead of their awkward fumbling. She could almost hear her old music teacher in her head, guiding her along the solo, and she felt a smile curling her lips as she held a note with a full, steady breath. She possessed nowhere near Luka’s level of musical skill, and she didn’t understand how he could stand to listen to her beginner’s try, but he remained silent, comforting in his presence, letting her play. Letting her heal. Letting her _try_. The song drew to a close, and when she dared open her eyes again she found Luka had closed his. That smile was still on his face, and he was swaying gently with the ending notes. As she lowered the flute, his eyes opened and his grin returned.

“Huh,” he said thoughtfully. “Looks like you were wrong.”

“I’m...sorry?” she asked. He dipped his head, looking up at her from under his thin eyelashes.

“No dying cats,” he whispered conspiratorially, “and I’m _definitely_ not questioning what I see you in you.”

She looked away, her cheeks warming under his gaze, and twisted her hands around the flute nervously. He hopped up onto his knees and reached out, gently taking the flute and setting it aside so he could hold her hands.

“That was beautiful, Mari,” he said. “You never cease to amaze me.”

“What you do is beautiful,” she said, shyly glancing back at him. She chewed on her lower lip for a moment before he reached up and used his thumb to gently pull it from her teeth. She sighed as her eyes closed. “I am sorry, Luka. You are so talented, and if anyone deserved the chance to play with Jagged it was you.”

“I did, though,” he said. At her look, he smiled. “After the mess with Vivica was sorted, he stuck around and jammed with the band, didn’t he? So I did get to play with him, in the end, and that was pretty cool. Mari, I’m not upset because I’m not really a solo artist. I like being a part of a band. It wouldn’t have felt right if I was the only Kitty there.”

She snorted and covered her mouth with her hand, gasping, “…I know it’s the band, but please, Luka. Don’t call yourself _Kitty_.”

He rolled his eyes and gave her a knowing smirk, but she was still looking down and missed it. She was right, after all: he was more of a _Snake_ now.

“Mari,” he said, rubbing his thumb against her cheek. She looked up at him, and his smile softened. “We’re ok now, right?”

She smiled, and she leaned forward to wrap her arms around his shoulders in a hug. He slipped his arms around her waist and leaned in, almost laying on her lap. She bent over him, sighing again.

“I still think you should be mad at me,” she said, “but…yeah. We’re good.”

They stayed like that a moment longer, enjoying the comfort found in the other’s presence. Neither noticed the two adults lingering in the stairwell to the upper deck or the flash of a camera.

“That’s going in the wedding slide show,” Jagged whispered to Anarka, and she rolled her eyes fondly at her old friend.

“Come on, Pirate. Let them be,” she said, turning him back up the stairs. “You’ve caused enough trouble for today.”


End file.
